Legolas Sees a Psychiatrist
by Jeniveela
Summary: Legolas has been reading LOTR fan fics, and they scare him! He goes to see a psychiatrist. Contains Terry Pratchett-flavored, satirical humor. ^_^ Please R&R!


A/N: Hello, Jeniveela here. ^_^ 

This is my first LOTR fan fic, so please don't be too vicious on me! I'm still trying to get all the characterizations right. I know the beginning of this fan fic seems to have very little to do with LOTR, but it does later in the chapter, so please be patient!

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lord of the Rings', nor will I ever own 'Lord of the Rings', which belongs to the great JRR Tolkien. I do not own 'Trix' (or the affiliated rabbit) 'Lucky Charms' (or the affiliated leprechaun), both of which I believe belong to General Mills Cereal Company. I do not own 'Star Wars', which belongs to George Lucas, and I also don't own Prozac, which belongs to…eh…who ever Prozac belongs to…O.o?**

BTW, I mean to offend no one with my humor in this fan fic. If somehow you are offended by my sometimes satirical, strange sense of humor, then I apologize deeply because that was not my intention when I wrote this fan fic. I also do not mean to offend any fan fic writer or LOTR fic in particular when Legolas is ranting about fan girls, Mary Sues, slash fics, etc.

Alright, I think I'm finished with the disclaimer…Now on with the insanity goodness! ^_^

~*~*~*~*

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**_XOXOXOXO…_**

Dr. Ian Aynut sighed heavily as he beat himself at his one hundred-fiftieth game of 'tic-tac-toe' during this 'therapy session'. It was the sort of resigned, weary sigh he uttered every morning when he woke up, looked at himself in the mirror, combed his last three hairs across his shiny, bald head, and wondered why he didn't listen to his mother and become a dentist rather than a psychiatrist.

It was also the sort of sigh he gave during 'therapy sessions' with his patients, which he mostly spent playing games of 'tic-tac-toe' against himself on his notepad while pretending to take notes about the dreadfully boring person telling him about their dreadfully boring, randomly insane lives, murmuring an occasional 'ah' or 'umhmm' or even an 'I see…' to convince the nutca- I mean, _patient that he was actually listening to him._

It was also the sort of sigh he uttered every night before he sent all of his *special* patients home for the night, then popped down as many aspirins as he could find, and went to bed feeling a great deal more depressed and less sane than when he woke up that morning and uttered his first utterly bored, resigned sigh of the day. But I digress…

His daily uttered sighs were something that his *special* patients were used to. Though they were sighs of complete and utter boredom, they bothered his patients none; rather they mistook his sighs as sighs of interest like one might utter when one is observing a particularly unique and fascinating piece of artwork at a museum.

But Dr. Aynut wasn't much of an art aficionado, so it was highly unlikely that he'd ever sigh with interest as he observed a particularly marvelous or dreamy piece of artwork; the only decorational object that was even remotely like artwork in his dreary, drab, shabby little office that was outdated by about two or three decades was a framed picture of a rather unconvincingly happy, yellow smiley face. I say it was unconvincingly happy because it had a caption beneath it that had originally read:

**Smile.**

**Be happy.**

****

However, _someone had taken a black Sharpie marker and had written on the frame to –ahem- revise that *happy* little caption to read like this:_

**Smile. **

**_(because you have antidepressants)_**

**Be happy.**

**_(that you're not dead today)_**

**__**

As tasteless and tacky as Dr. Aynut's choice of décor for his terribly outdated office seemed, it was no major consequences to him or his patients because he was not getting paid for decorating his office nor did he earn a penny for sighing with interest as he observed- ahem –fine art. No, that was why he had his secretary Nancy.

No, Dr. Aynut was paid basically for listening to people talk about _themselves and trying to help people fix their lives and their problems while also trying to figure out if these people had any psychological problems (or if they were even sane). _

In short, Dr. Aynut was paid for observing people who, like artwork, were all very *different* and *unique* (and that was the _nice way of putting it); however, being *different* and *unique* does not necessarily make one particularly interesting like the man that he was listening to right now._

"They were always teasing him," Dr. Aynut's patient said, his voice trembling as his eyes filled with tears while he stared up at the inexplicably bubblegum-splotched ceiling as he laid on his back on the couch. "They were always making fun of him…They always said- They always said-"

Here he broke off, choking back a sob that was _almost enough to make Dr. Aynut feel sorry for him. __Almost, but not quite. Dr. Aynut sighed his heavy, weary sigh again as he tapped his toe, rolled his eyes heavenward toward the bubblegum-spotted ceiling, and wondered if his self-made rubber band slingshot could send another wad of well-chewed bubblegum to go join the other wads of bubblegum on the ceiling all while waiting for his patient to go on with his pathetically sad story._

"They always said, 'Silly rabbit! Trix are for kids!'" his patient burst out sobbing, wailing pathetically like a baby.

Dr. Aynut sighed again as he won his one hundred-fifty-first tic-tac-toe game against himself and rolled his eyes again behind his gold-rimmed spectacles.

After he let his patient carry on blubbering for a minute or so, he sighed again and checked his _non-existent, golden watch on his left wrist that he __never got for his fiftieth anniversary, which __never came around because he __never got married because he was too busy listening to nutca- I mean, __patients like the one lying in front of him and blubbering right now. Understand? Good, because I sure as Eru don't…_

"Oh my, look at the time," Dr. Aynut said suddenly as he glanced at the face of his completely non-existent watch. It was the first full sentence he had spoken to his patient since the session began

Well, I suppose his watch wasn't completely non-existent, I suppose…It did exist in his mind, especially during his lonely times, which he spent staring forlornly at the face of his _almost non-existent watch that he __never got for his fiftieth anniversary, which __never came around because he __never got married because he was too busy listening to patients like the one lying in front of him and blubbering right now. _

He wondered wistfully about what would have happened if he _had gotten married and __had gotten to celebrate his fiftieth anniversary and __had gotten a golden watch from his beloved wife…who currently did not exist save in his mind…_

Again, Dr. Aynut briefly checked his almost non-existent watch as he hastily got to his feet and walked around his desk, saying in an all too cheery, rushed voice, "Whadya know? Time flies when you're having fun, eh?"

He quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper from his notepad, ripped the page off, and stuffed it into his patient's hand as he helped him up off the couch and marched him over to the door.

"Here, this is your bill. Hand it to Nancy on your way out, and she'll give you all the proper paperwork," he muttered hastily, trying to get the nutca- okay, I'm just going to say it –_nutcase out of his office as quickly as possible. "Be sure to come back next week. Buh-bye now."_

"Really? It's time to go now? But I'm only getting started!" the patient protested weakly as he was escorted (or rather shoved) out the door. "I have so much more I need to tell you about my inner child!"

"Well, we have plenty of time for you to tell me all about your inner child next week," Dr. Aynut reassured him in that put-on, scarily all-too-cheery voice as he shoved him rather roughly out the office door. "Goodbye now!"

"But-"

"I SAID 'GOODBYE'!"

He slammed the door behind his patient, making the corny, sadistically happy smiley face picture rattle on the wall, making the picture tilt and making the smiley face appear as if it had its head tilted with interest, looking down mockingly out of its picture frame, laughing silently at the pathetic, insane, little human beings who were so unfortunate to dwell in the dingy little office.

"I didn't even get to tell you about my fear of the Lucky Charm's leprechaun and his pot of gold!" the patient's protesting cry came from outside the door.

"Go away, go away, go away…" Dr. Aynut hissed though clenched teeth as he planted his back firmly against the door so that the cereal character fearing nutcase could not get back in. 

Then, as if Dr. Aynut had *uber-spiffy* Jedi powers, the crazy little nut's protests as well as his footsteps died away as the nutcase left, taking all of his random insanity with him for the time being. 

Once he was sure he was gone, Dr. Aynut sighed his depressed, weary sigh again and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was breathing so hard you would have thought he had just run a ten-mile marathon. Dealing with those who are a little eccentric miserable day after miserable day tends to wear you down after awhile.

"Oy," he muttered under his breath as he staggered like a drunken man to his chair behind his desk and collapsing into it. He closed his eyes and threw his arm over his face as he moaned, "Where's my Prozac when I need it?"

~*~*~*~*

Five minutes later…

All too soon there was a soft knock at the door. Dr. Aynut sighed deeply again. Insanity had come to his doorstep yet again, and he would have to face it all too soon.

"Come in," he called gruffly without bothering to remove his arm to see who it was.

The door creaked open gently as a red-haired, middle-aged woman stuck her head in through the door. She had a put-on glamorous air like one who is past her prime but is still desperately trying to cling to her youthful beauty that she once had. Though she was a bit vain, that wasn't to say that she wasn't a nice person. She actually was a fairly nice person with incredible patience, especially when it came to dealing with –ahem- 'mentally disturbed' people. This was Nancy the receptionist, the only one in the whole place who was reasonably (and remarkably) sane.

"Um, Dr. Aynut?" she said. There was something hesitant in her voice, something uneasy that made him remove his arm to glance at her. She was usually never nervous about speaking to him.

"Yes?" he sighed.

"Uh, your next patient is here to see you," she announced, glancing uneasily back over her shoulder. She lowered her voice slightly. "But, uh, perhaps I should warn you of something before you meet him…"

Dr. Aynut inhaled and exhaled deeply, making a noise that sounded somewhat like a muffled trumpet blast. 

"What?" he asked, sounding as hopeless and filled with dread as a man about to find out how he is going to be executed.

"Well, um…" She paused for a second, chewing her cherry red, lipstick coated, bottom lip in thought as she searched for the right words. Finally she said, "Well, he's not quite…uh…all there, if you know what I mean." She tapped the side of her head in indication. "He thinks he's…_someone else."_

"Who have we got now?" Dr. Aynut asked, groaning slightly. The ones that had identity delusions were usually the most difficult to deal with because they simply refused to believe that they weren't who they thought they were. "Joan of Arc? King Arthur? Elvis Presley?"

"Uh, actually sir…" 

Nancy hesitantly stepped into the dim, dreary, little office and walked across the threadbare carpet in her green, high heeled shoes, a manila file folder clutched in her right hand (which also happened to be well-manacured, I should add). She walked over to his desk and dropped the manila file folder on his desk.

Sighing deeply, he picked up the folder and flipped it open cautiously as though he were afraid of its contents. He began to read what it said aloud even though he had a confidentiality policy about his patients; however, Nancy was excluded from that confidentiality policy.

"Name: Greenleaf, Legolas…"

~*~*~*~*

A/N: So what did you think of that chapter? ^_^ Full of insanity goodness, _ne_?

BTW, remember I meant to offend no one with any of my humor. If I did, then I apologize again because that was not my intention when I wrote this fan fic. Please accept my apology if you are offended before you submit a flame. (Besides, I'll only give the flames to the *uber-spiffy* Balrog. ~_^)

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!!

Thank you! ~_^

~*_Jeniveela_*~

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